‘Does Tariq mean footballer?’ Richard asked, frowning.
‘No, it means striker,’ I said without thinking. ‘Or morning star.’
Tariq stared at me. Your friendly neighbourhood stalker.
‘I googled everybody’s names,’ I muttered, turning scarlet. ‘Just to make sure I knew, um, what to expect.’
Tariq suddenly said, ‘That reminds me. Lola, can I just grab you for a minute? I mean, borrow you. I wanted to look over those prizes with you. Is that OK, Richard?’
‘There are prizes?’ Richard said, brightening. ‘Cool. I’ll be with these guys.’
Tariq led me out of the room, and to a nearby stair-case. I had never seen it before but it led up to the balcony that overlooked the hall. Yet another hidden nook in this school.
It was fun to look down on the whole room full of costumed people, dancing and talking. It would be the perfect place to make an announcement, or just really freak people out Carrie-style.
‘What about the prizes?’ I asked him.
He leaned against the balcony railing. ‘I don’t want to talk to you about prizes. I just came up here so we wouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘Oh.’ My heart started to pound. Either he had taken me here to kill me, or he was annoyed with me, or …
‘Are you here with Richard? Like, on a date?’ He didn’t meet my eye as he said this.
‘With Richard? No,’ I said. ‘He asked me, and I didn’t want to be rude.’
‘But you were talking about someone who kept messaging you, and you didn’t know what it meant …’
‘That was happening to someone else! I told you!’ I looked at him wildly. ‘Are you here with Fletcher as a date?’
He shook his head.
‘That night on the roof,’ he said, still looking down. ‘I wanted something to happen, but I didn’t have the nerve. I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.’
My hopes were rising and falling like a rollercoaster. He continued, ‘But now I don’t care. I don’t just want you as a friend. I mean, I do. But seeing you tonight, looking like that, with another guy … it made me realise I want more.’
I was shaken and flooded, from head to toe, with such a torrent of emotions, I couldn’t even form a single word. It was like a dream. Tariq wanted me.
It was time to admit it. I wanted him more than any boy I’d ever met. And it wasn’t just physical; he was my friend, too – my best friend.
‘Tariq, I …’
‘It’s fine, if you don’t feel the same,’ he said, in a voice I hardly recognised.
‘I do,’ I managed to say. ‘I do feel the same. I just have to tell you something first.’
‘What?’
I wished that I could throw myself into his arms. But I couldn’t – not yet. It was suddenly very important that I not kiss him until he knew the truth about me.
‘Can I tell you another time?’ I said finally. ‘It would take too long now. Fletcher will be waiting for you. And Richard’s waiting for me …’
He smiled. ‘OK.’
I turned round to walk downstairs, but he grabbed my hand.
‘Wait,’ he said in a hoarse voice. And then he kissed me.
Chapter Fifty-One
I. Have. Never.
Hadakisslikethatinmyentire life.
It was the kiss to end all kisses. I couldn’t move or speak; I could barely breathe. And judging by his face, he felt the same.
‘Lola,’ he said. Then, ‘Shh. What’s that?’
There were footsteps on the stairs behind us. With incredible presence of mind, Tariq took a step backwards while I whipped my veil back on.
‘Oh, there you are, Tariq,’ said Rose. ‘We need to do the prizes, are you ready?’
‘Sure – we were just taking photos,’ said Tariq. Once again, I marvelled at his unbelievable ability to think on his feet. Though anyone less self-absorbed than Rose would have seen straight through this, judging from our guilty expressions.
We all walked downstairs together. Tariq and I studiously avoided each others’ gazes except to look at each other, once – and grin at each other stupidly.
As we rejoined the others, the temptation was really strong to stand next to him – maybe let my arm brush against his, or even put my hand in his. But I couldn’t do that to Fletcher, or Richard; it would be really rude. Giving Tariq one last look, I went off to find Richard, and apologise for taking so long.
‘That’s OK!’ he said. ‘We’ve been talking about Settlers of Catan. Have you ever played?’
I shook my head. At that moment, I spotted Kiyoshi leaving the room, grinning very widely, and walking very close to Marco Agnelli.
‘Oh my God!’
‘What is it?’
I recovered myself. ‘Nothing,’ I said, feeling relieved. I had actually managed to stop myself from blurting something out tactlessly. Things were looking up on all fronts.
‘Hi everyone!’ Rose was saying into the microphone. ‘Welcome to our Spring Ball!’
As she went on – giving the speech that I thought Fletcher should really have been delivering – I looked nervously, sideways, at Tariq’s handsome profile across the room. I still didn’t know how to tell him. But I felt more hopeful now. He did really like me. He would understand.
‘And now it’s time to give the prizes for best costume!’ Rose was saying. ‘Third prize goes to … Abigail Wu!’
Abigail shrieked and ran up the steps to collect her prize. She was wearing an old-fashioned maid’s uniform with a white skirt and frilly cap. Abigail obviously meant maid.
‘Second prize … Jason Deslandes! Jason, what does your costume mean?’
‘Jason means healer,’ said Jason, who was dressed as a doctor.
‘And in first place – Vee Collins!’
‘Woohoo! Go Vee!’ I joined in the applause, thrilled for Vee. Her costume was fantastic. As she took her place on the stage, I found myself hoping that a bit of recognition would help stop her feeling so angry with everything.
‘Thanks,’ she said into the microphone. ‘I just want to say a quick word while I’m here – firstly to thank everyone for organising the party …’
I was quite surprised; that was very nice of her.
‘And secondly, I want to make everyone aware of something.’
I smiled to myself, thinking: this was much more like Vee. She was obviously channelling all those actors who made political speeches at the Oscars.
‘There should really be a prize tonight …’ She paused, and looked directly into my eyes, ‘for the most complete disguise. There’s someone here who’s been in disguise for months. Ever since she got here.’
My hands went icy cold. I swallowed.
‘We know her as Lola, but that’s not her name. Her name is Delilah Hoover. She got kicked out of her school, for being racist—’
That was as far as she got before a teacher pulled her away from the microphone. Vee instantly started writhing around, making it look as if he was dragging her forcibly. Talking fast, she yelled, ‘I’ve linked to her real name on our page. She’s not who she says she is!’
Something seemed to happen to my balance, and I wobbled. Richard grabbed me. Everyone around me was staring at me, and whispering. I saw Priya take out her phone and look at it, then at me.
Fletcher came flying over to me.
‘Lola, what is she talking about? She’s crazy, right?’
All I could do was shake my head, and then hurry out of the hall as fast as my legs could take me. I left so fast, I didn’t even see Tariq’s reaction.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Back in my room. Curled up on my bed. This felt so familiar.
She’s not who she says she is.
She got kicked out of her school for being racist.
I couldn’t believe that Vee had done that, but on the other hand, of course I could. In any case, it was done now. Everybody knew.
I found myself actually wriggling around, writhing like a wo
rm under a spade, trying to escape it. But there was no getting away this time. I pictured them all talking about me, sharing and tweeting the story. It was happening all over again. And it would be worse this time, because of the fact that I’d lied about it.
I checked our class Facebook page. Vee had linked to the BBC article, which reproduced the original tweet. There were already two comments under it.
That is so horrible! No wonder she lied.
OMG I can’t believe someone would say that.
They were from people I didn’t know very well. Vee hadn’t written anything else, and nor had Fletcher or Kiyoshi. I wondered what they were thinking. What Tariq was thinking. He would probably never speak to me again.
I almost admired Vee for doing it openly like that. She could so easily have just posted it online, anonymously. But she did it in public. And she gave me a chance to tell her the truth – which I turned down.
The true horror of my situation was beginning to dawn on me. At least when things went bad at my old school, I could go home and be safe there. But now I had landed myself in a place where it was all school, all the time.
I rolled over and FaceTimed Mum.
‘Finally!’ she said, which made me feel really guilty. ‘We haven’t heard from you in so long!’
‘Mum …’ But I couldn’t get the words out. As soon as I heard her voice, the tears started to come.
Mum started freaking out at the other end of the line. ‘Delilah! What is it? What’s happened?’
But she must have known, even before I managed to gasp, ‘They found out.’
‘I’m so sorry, love,’ she said.
I gulped and hiccupped, while she just stayed quiet on the other end.
‘I have to leave,’ I managed to say, eventually.
‘Slow down. When did this happen?’
‘Just now. It was at the Spring Ball.’ I glanced at myself in the top corner of the screen. With my tear-streaked face under my black veil, my Sorrow costume was a lot more appropriate now.
‘Well, at least …’
I tensed up, not feeling in the mood for one of Mum’s positive spins on things.
‘At least now that it’s out in the open, you can give them all your side of the story.’
I stared at her in disbelief. ‘What? Mum! They are never going to listen to me. I’ve lied to them all.’
‘Well …’ she hesitated. ‘The thing is, love – it was always going to come out sooner or later. Don’t you think?’
‘No, I don’t think! That’s easy for you to say – you don’t have to stay here and face everyone … I can’t do it. I can’t do this all over again.’ I was choked with sobs.
‘Oh, love … Of course you can come home,’ Mum said, once I’d subsided. ‘You know you can always come home.’
‘When?’ I sobbed.
Mum wanted me to wait until after the exams; I wanted to leave for the Eurostar then and there. In the end we compromised; I could come home in a week.
‘Just let me wait forty-eight hours before I book the train. OK? The people there might surprise you.’
‘I doubt it,’ I said.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Once I’d got off the phone with Mum, I turned my phone onto airplane mode, closed my laptop, and plugged myself into some music. I felt a bit like Schrodinger’s cat – the one who could be alive or dead depending on what had happened inside the box. I was fine, as long as I didn’t leave my box.
Then there was a knock at the door. I was almost too scared to open it, but there was always the chance that it might be Tariq.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me!’
Fletcher, still in her costume. She reached out and hugged me, while I stood there in shock.
‘I just wish you would’ve told me!’ she said.
Had told me, I thought irrelevantly.
‘I didn’t think you would believe me.’
Fletcher sat down. ‘Just tell me everything that happened.’
So I told her the whole thing. Getting obsessed with the Twitter feed of Dream Uni; trying to impress them with my witty tweets; the technology Sabbath – and then the aftermath. Pleading with my parents to let me come to Jean Monnet.
‘But didn’t your friends believe you? Didn’t they understand?’
‘They said they believed me. But … I don’t know. I just couldn’t talk to them any more. Maybe if we’d been better friends, it wouldn’t have mattered.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Fletcher said. ‘That’s basically what happened with me and Riley and August.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’m not comparing the two things, at all. I’m just trying to say, I know what it’s like to walk into the dining hall and feeling like everyone’s staring at you. And you must have noticed, I’m not friends with Riley or August any more. So I know what it’s like to feel alone.’
‘But you didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘Neither did you!’ said Fletcher. ‘Anyone looking at that tweet can tell you were trying to be sarcastic. It’s just not even a thing.’
The relief, from hearing her say that, was overwhelming. But was it just a coincidence that the only other person to think it was NBD just happened to be a white girl like me?
‘So what are you going to do now?’ Fletcher said.
I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving?’
‘Yeah. I’ve spoken to my mum – she said I could come home. I have to have a cool-down period of forty-eight hours, but then she’ll book me a Eurostar home.’
‘But you can’t leave! What about your exams? And, what about the race?’
‘My exams don’t really matter so much. I’m only doing the IB certificate, after all. And I’m sorry about the race, but …’
She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. Fletcher’s face was always worth a thousand words.
‘But what happens after you get home? Do you go back to your old school? Or do you find a new school and make up another name? You can’t keep running forever.’
So everyone kept telling me.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, my eyes brimming again. ‘I just know I can’t stay here.’
‘Yes, you can,’ said Fletcher. ‘I mean – you might not want to, but you can.’
‘But—’
‘How do you think I felt?’ she said. ‘I mean I know it’s not quite as bad, but … believe me; after the Hunter thing, I didn’t want to stay here either.’
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
‘Sleep on it,’ Fletcher said. ‘But listen – whatever happens, I’ve got your back. OK?’
‘Don’t. You’ll make me cry again.’ I hugged her, thinking how lucky I was to have a friend like her and how little I deserved it. It almost – almost – made up for the fact that I still hadn’t heard anything from Tariq yet.
Chapter Fifty-Four
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
At five a.m. I got up and started packing.
By eight a.m., I was packed and I’d formulated a plan. I would just stay here, in my room, until my cool-down period had passed and I could get my train. I had some Pringles and Haribo stashed away. Fletcher could smuggle me more food, and I would wait here until it was time for my train. Simple.
I was just beginning to wonder if I could get Mum to shorten the deadline, when there was a knock on the door. It was Ms Curtis, and Mr Gerardo.
‘We brought you breakfast,’ said Mr Gerardo, holding out a paper plate with croissants on it, from the cafeteria. And a banana. Which seemed incongruous and a bit poignant.
‘Fletcher’s filled us in on what happened. And we’ve spoken to your parents.’ Ms Curtis looked around, noting my suddenly empty room. ‘Can we sit down?’
‘Look, Lola. We don’t think this is a crime,’ said Mr Gerardo. He smiled sadly. ‘I see now why you wrote so eloquently about a shame culture. But the thing about shame is that it doesn’t always come from
an actual crime, does it? Sometimes it’s just a way of making people feel better, when things are confusing, by displacing “bad" things onto a convenient scapegoat.’
That was all very well, but it didn’t help if you were the one tied up outside the village, waiting for the lions to get you.
Mr Gerardo said, ‘It’s clear that you didn’t mean what you said. It was just a mistake.’
‘You didn’t use your best judgement, maybe,’ Ms Curtis added. ‘But you intended to be … the opposite of racist. Am I right?’
‘Yes. But that still doesn’t make it OK.’
‘I have a suggestion,’ Ms Curtis said. ‘What about explaining your side of the story? At a community meeting?’
‘In front of everyone?’ I started to panic again. ‘No, I can’t. I mean I couldn’t.’
The two teachers looked at each other. ‘We’ve removed the article from the Facebook page,’ Ms Curtis said. ‘And we’ve sent an email reminding everyone of our antibullying policy. You won’t have any problems. If you do, come to us or any of the staff.’
I couldn’t believe how good they were being about all this. So much better than my old teachers, who just didn’t want to deal with it. Maybe it would actually be OK? Maybe people would understand that I wasn’t being completely evil?
‘OK. I’ll try. I mean, I’ll try to stay and go to class and stuff.’
‘Attagirl,’ said Fletcher, appearing behind them. ‘Look - you know I’ve got a geography trip today? We’re going to Chartres.’
‘What? No, I didn’t.’ Panic came back to me.
‘You’ll be fine,’ she assured me.
‘Fletcher’s right,’ said Ms Curtis. ‘Come on. Let’s get you to class.’
Chapter Fifty-Five
If I thought something super-dramatic was going to happen I was wrong. It was a totally normal morning of classes. Jun surprised us all, in French, by knowing the past conditional perfectly. Mr Woods, the English teacher, explained to us how Shakespeare was the Jay-Z of his day.
Lola Offline Page 16
